


A Slow Morning at Baker Street

by 17stepstobakerstreet



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, John Watson is smitten, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, They are so in love, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17stepstobakerstreet/pseuds/17stepstobakerstreet
Summary: John hummed happily, letting his eyes close for just a second.Damn you, Lestrade, John thought as he felt Sherlock’s eyelashes tickling his skin as Sherlock blinked, still waking himself up.You couldn’t have picked a worse morning to ask us on a case.“Who is it, John?” Sherlock asked, the words partially obscured by John’s shoulder. His fingers were skimming softly over John’s collar bones, and his feet had found John’s under the covers. His toes were somehow still cold, despite the rest of him being warm, but John let him tangle their legs together nonetheless.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 125





	A Slow Morning at Baker Street

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ленивое утро на Бейкер-стрит](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361521) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



Sun filtered through the dusty windows of 221b Baker Street as John blinked his eyes open and licked his lips, enjoying the warmth spreading over his skin from the light. Turning his head to the side slightly, he smiled when he saw Sherlock, currently asleep and half pinning John to the bed, his dark hair mussed from sleeping, face pressed into John’s shoulder. It was perfect, and John was just about to lean in to press a kiss to the crown of Sherlock’s head when a phone dinged, and John suddenly remembered why he had woken up in the first place.

He had heard a text alert, from Lestrade no doubt, and since he was a light sleeper, it roused him. Sighing softly to himself, he carefully removed Sherlock’s arm from across his chest and sat up. The air felt chilly against his bare skin, but he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and ignored it. Grabbing Sherlock’s phone, he checked for messages, and sure enough, there they were. Two texts from Lestrade, informing them about a case that he needed help with. John was about to turn the phone off, throw it on the floor, and ignore all the rest of human civilization for a little while so that they could have a nice lie-in together, but his plans were soon stopped before he could even put them into action.

“John?” Sherlock murmured, now awake, his voice still rough from sleep. John hummed to let him know that he heard him, but he did not turn to look at Sherlock. He didn’t have to. Even without looking at him, John knew exactly what he was doing. He had watched Sherlock wake up countless times, and every time John watched him, he thanked whoever was listening that he was blessed enough to witness the miracle that was Sherlock Holmes. He would always rub the sleep out of his eyes first, always with the heel of his hand, then he would stretch lazily, almost like a lithe cat, taking the time to carefully stretch every muscle in his body, his face relaxing in bliss. Then his eyes would flutter open, land on John, and he would smile that soft smile that still made John’s stomach swoop. It was beautiful, really, and John would never tire of it.

A few more seconds passed with John still staring at Lestrade’s messages, wishing he hadn’t heard the notifications, when the mattress moved and suddenly Sherlock was draped over John, pressing his face into John’s shoulder, nosing at his skin. His bare chest was pressed against John’s back, and suddenly the chill that had settled on his skin was gone, replaced by the pleasant warmth of Sherlock. John hummed happily, letting his eyes close for just a second. _Damn you, Lestrade_ , John thought as he felt Sherlock’s eyelashes tickling his skin as Sherlock blinked, still waking himself up. _You couldn’t have picked a worse morning to ask us on a case._

“Who is it, John?” Sherlock asked, the words partially obscured by John’s shoulder. His fingers were skimming softly over John’s collar bones, and his feet had found John’s under the covers. His toes were somehow still cold, despite the rest of him being warm, but John let him tangle their legs together nonetheless.

“It’s Lestrade. There’s a case he thinks you’ll like.” John hadn’t meant to say it with any anger or ill will, but Sherlock, beautiful Sherlock, knew exactly what he had been thinking since he discovered the texts just a few minutes ago. Pressing his face farther into John’s shoulder, tightening his grip on his shoulders, Sherlock hummed to himself before inhaling deeply and letting out a soft sigh. The warm air tickled John’s skin and he smiled.

“Is it a seven or above?” Sherlock asked, words still slurred slightly. John chuckled and read over the case information again, even though he knew that it would only fall around a four, a five if they were lucky. It wasn’t a locked room, or a serial killer, just a slightly strange murder that Lestrade couldn't quite make sense of.

“Most likely not, love,” John said, turning off the phone and setting it aside. John could feel the corners of Sherlock’s mouth turn up slightly at the term of endearment, and John found that his lips were doing the same.

“Thank goodness,” Sherlock sighed, nuzzling his nose against John’s shoulder. “I don’t even think a nine would be enough to get me out of this bed right now.” Mirth bubbled up John’s throat, and he let it spill out of his mouth in a laugh that filled the room with light, a different kind than what was still streaming steadily through the windows, spilling onto their skin. John could feel Sherlock laughing as well, could feel his chest move against his back, and was once again thanking someone, anyone that was listening, for giving him this wonder. He brought his hand up to hold one of Sherlock’s and stroked his thumb over the pulse that was thrumming steadily under his skin, and Sherlock sighed once more, pressing a kiss to John’s shoulder.

“I love you, John Watson,” Sherlock murmured into John’s skin, skimming the fingers of his free hand over John’s wrist. John smiled, turned to press a soft kiss to Sherlock’s forehead, and buried his nose in his hair, breathing deeply. 

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes,” he replied, the words slightly muffled by Sherlock’s sleep mussed curls. It didn’t matter anyway, for he knew that Sherlock heard him loud and clear.

The room was warm and the two men stayed like that, tangled together, for longer than either could count before laying down, still wrapped in each other. John pulled Sherlock closer to his chest, Sherlock snuggled into his arms, and before John fell asleep, he had one singular thought:

_God, I must have done something truly wonderful to deserve this. To deserve him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading this! It was stuck in my head for a while, and the only way to get it to leave was through writing it. As always, kudos or comments would make my entire day! My entire life, even!


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